


Fragile Skin

by Ti_03



Category: Just Roll With It (Podcast)
Genre: Major Spoilers, Major character death - Freeform, Trauma, porcelain skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ti_03/pseuds/Ti_03
Summary: Br’aad never minded the cracks. He thought they would go away.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Fragile Skin

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ARC ONE EPISODE 19 AND 26 AND ARC TWO EPISODES 9, 10, 16, 22, AND 32 THIS IS A SPOILER WARNING

Windell shoved Br’aad to the ground, making sure the half-elf’s head hit the wall. “Did the little pixie stray too far from the forest?” the pig snorted and laughed, looking back to his two friends behind him. “Where’s your brother? Too chicken to come out and spread his little wings?” 

They continued to laugh, pushing the young boy back down to the dirt and kicking him a couple of times. 

Br’aad whimpered and covered his rib cage, scared that they might kick in another rib and no amount of magic could possibly heal him properly. 

_ Crrk _ he heard as Windell kicked his arms away from his rib cage and a dirty, torn boot pressed against his chest and sandwiched him between the boot and the bring, moldy wall. It didn’t feel like a rib, but it definitely hurt. He yelled in pain and clawed at the fat pig’s ankle. 

It only did so much even if Windell was beginning to bleed.  _ Crrk _ he heard again, but louder this time. 

The pressure on his chest was gone suddenly. He opened his eyes to see Sylnan yelling and standing in front of him. Over his heavy breathing, he could hear the older brother cursing and threatening them. 

He pointed a finger at Windell and growled lowly,  _ “Don’t you ever touch Br’aad again or I’ll rip you limb from limb.”  _

They scoffed and started walking away. Windell looked over his shoulder to the Vengolor brothers and smirked. “Go and spread your stupid little pixie magic, knife-ears.” Their laughs faded as they left them alone. 

Sylnan kneeled down to the blond on the ground, he started looking for injuries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.” He apologized. 

He sniffles and wheezes out a “thank you” for his older brother. 

Sylnan pressed his palm against his brother’s chest and he bit his tongue. The pain was uncomfortable, but not too painful anymore. “Is this where it hurts?” Br’aad shook his head in response. “Don’t lie to me and don’t hide your injuries.” 

“I’m okay,” the blond coughed and began pushing himself up from the ground. “Just sore.” 

Later that night, the young boy found a small jagged line over his chest in the mirror. He didn’t think of it much nor did he pay much attention to the dull pain. 

* * *

The cracks were small when he was living in the orphanage. His muscles ache every time he found a new one. They were rather small and short, acting like small scars. They itched a lot and the pain was still there, but he never paid any mind to them. 

The cracks didn’t stop coming when he and Sylnan left the orphanage that night, smiling happily and giggling as they searched the streets for a new home. 

Sylnan was reaching into a trash bin with Br’aad clutching his doll close to his chest. His stomach growled and painful jabs hit him on the sides. He groaned and looked at his older brother. 

“Did you find anything?” He asked. No response other than more shuffling and rustling. He pouted and looked at the streets, watching passerbys skip the alleyway and continued past them. 

He itched one of the cracks behind his neck when a man looked at him and snickered. “Filthy rat bastard.” He spat at Br’aad, making sure it was wet and landed on the boy’s cheek before he walked away. 

“Did you say somethin?” Sylnan asked, popping his head up from the trash and pulled out a half eaten potato. 

The blond wiped his cheek with his hand. “No, I didn’t say anything.” He replied.  _ Crrk _ .

* * *

On his hands and knees, a large circle of purple paint and a book in front of him, he scratched at a crack on his nose and began reading the text. He followed the instructions as best as he could and he’s pronouncing the words carefully. 

Purple mist began filling the room and he willed himself to hold his cough as he chanted faster. The circle glowed and he could feel his limbs tingling and his arms locking up. Something cold, something  _ metallic _ , wrapped around his wrists. A loud chime echoed in his ears and he bit back a wince. 

His body slammed into the ground and he was now standing in front of a tall man wearing a brown trenchcoat and a suit underneath with a monocle on his left eye and auburn hair. 

“You called?” He asked with a sly smirk. 

His mouth was open and his eyes wide. His thoughts began racing and he was still comprehending being pulled into another place. “Where-how-how did I get here?” He asked. 

The man chuckled then clicked his tongue, taking off his monocle and wiping it with his trenchcoat. “You’re in another plane of existence, my boy. I thought you would have known that if you were clever enough to summon me.” 

“I didn’t really think it would work.” 

“Do you want a medal for figuring out how to read?” He placed his clean item into his coat pocket and glanced at the half-elf in front of him. He hummed and approached Br’aad slowly, the click of his shoes echoed and rang. 

“Quite a few cracks, you’re quite interesting.” He lifted his arm and began examining the broken skin. 

Br’aad backed away, a shiver running down his spine. “A little touchy there.” He laughed nervously. “We haven’t met before.” 

“Oh, silly me,” the man shook his head and chuckled amusingly to himself. “You are indeed correct. I am Ob’nockshai, a deity of time.” He held out a gloved hand for the blond to shake. 

Hesitantly, he grabbed his hand firmly and shook it. “Br’aad Vengolor. Why am I here?”

“You summoned me, and it is an impressive feat. Not many could perform such deeds so easily.” Ob’nockshai grinned. “Tell me, why did you summon me? Are you looking to fix something from the past? Or perhaps you want to feel  _ powerful _ .”

Br’aad internally cringed at the mention of power or changing time. “Neither actually. I guess you could say I’m bored.” 

The deity’s purple eyes flashed gold for a second. “Bored? That’s certainly surprising.”

“I have nothing else to do but worry and wait for my brother to come back home.” He said. “I feel useless sometimes.” 

“So then you came to me because you wanted to help out.” Ob’nockshai assumed. “I can help you with that, make your life better and easier.  _ I can stop the cracks _ .”

Br’aad’s eyes widened a bit. “You can?” 

Ob nodded and started walking around him. “The pain will go away, no more cracking and breaking. You won’t fall to pieces, you won’t be so fragile and you won’t feel useless my boy.” He was behind the blond, hands on his shoulders and gently pushing his tense shoulders down.  _ “How does that sound?” _

Br’aad twitched on the floor, hand over his cheek and another hand pressed into his side. He could feel a large, painful crack breaking his skin apart. Purple tattoos blanketed the smaller lines. 

Sylnan walked in that night and the painful crack in his side only broke and branched out more. His brother only seemed to care about yelling to notice his pain. 

“We’ll figure this out-no, we can make this better for both of us. We’ll figure this out, we’ll find a way.” He begged.

The older brother turned his back and muttered, “Br’aad..I can't look at you right now.”

As he reached out to Sylnan, his brother, his  _ best friend _ , he could hear a loud  _ crrk _ and a burning pain in his chest. 

* * *

He managed to hide the large cracks well. Bandages around his arms and his chest covered them up and held his skin together. The tattoos, even though he hated them, were also great as coverage but he was still cautious of letting anyone get too close. 

Br’aad learned to keep the cracks from getting longer and bigger. He just smiled widely and kept his mind off of them. They ached less and he wasn’t going to fall to pieces. 

However, when Sylnan died, his mind couldn’t stop drifting to him. The blade of Sark’s scimitar going straight into his brother’s chest and the blood trail behind them as Br’aad carried his corpse to the surface. 

“I’m sorry,” says the doctor in a solemn, sympathetic and quiet voice. “but he’s gone.” 

“What do you mean? He’s right here.”

_ Crrk _

_ Crrk _

_ Crrk _

* * *

Getting slammed and dropping from thirty feet isn’t so good for anyone’s bones. Br’aad watched his father flick his wrist and the half-elf felt the arcanaic energy pulling him up, the ground getting further and further away from him. 

Brenden’s eyes aren’t blood lusted or filled with rage, but they’re filled with sadness and almost a hint of regret. “I’m sorry, son.” He apologizes. “But you can’t leave here alive.” 

He fell quickly but it had seemed time slowed for a bit. Brenden looked down at him as he descended quicker than Taxi doubling his speed. 

He hears his spine pop out of place as his back was the first to collide with stone. He let out a yell of pain and gritted his teeth. Br’aad could hear something cracking and he began to panic. The pain is excruciating and it hurts to breathe. 

_ CRRRK _

_ That one is going to be a bitch to patch up _ , he thought to himself.

* * *

The cracks were getting harder to hide and Br’aad was running out of excuses. With his upper body he’s taking a risk. The bandages were becoming short and his new golden tattoos did mostly nothing. The half-elf mostly stood behind the group, but if he were put in front, he would hide as many of them as he could with his hands. 

Knelt down at the puddle of wax, Br’aad holds back tears. He watched the liquid seep into the ground. 

“Sylnan,” he started, voice small and confused. “I had so many questions I wanted to ask and now I’m even more traumatized than I was at first.” He but his cheek. “I have once again watched my father die in front of me and this time he has melted into wax that is now filling a blood altar.” He gestured to the grey liquid in the cracks. “I do not understand what is going on and I’m going to have some deep, emotional scarring after all of this.” 

_ Crrk, crrk,  _ and then pain. He hisses in pain and puts his hand on his left cheek. It felt like there was nothing missing. He looked at his lap and saw part of the tattooed phallus. 

Br’aad’s eyes widened. He felt around the area, and found nothing but air as he sank his fingers into the large hole it left. 

Memories began flooding in. The orphanage, Windell, the racism, Ob’nockshai,  _ the argument,  _ Sylnan’s death, Br’aad killing Brenden, Velrisa vanishing in ash, Claire, the cow Minotaur, and now the liquid wax of Brenden Vengolor slipping into any available crack it could find. 

More pain, skin starts to fall off of him. A large chunk from his arm, one from his chest, and he can hear something shatter behind him. He’s biting his lip and gritting his teeth hard. His head hurt, his head was pounding. He wanted to scream, he wanted the cracks to stop. 

_ This was going to be a bitch to patch up.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I’m tired I’m sorry this is really shit


End file.
